A sound came to our ears of some one landing heavily--and at full length, it seemed--on the turf, followed by a slight, rusty groan in the same voice. “Ugh! Don't you laugh, Bill Hammersley! I haven't jumped as much as I OUGHT to, these last twenty years; I reckon I've kind of lost the hang of it. Aha!” There were indications that Mr. Beasley was picking himself up, and brushing his trousers with his hands. “Now, it's your turn, Bill. What say?” Silence again, followed by, “Yes, I'll make Simpledoria get out of the way. Come here, Simpledoria. Now, Bill, put your heels together on the edge of the walk. That's right. All ready? Now then! One for the money--two for the show--three to make ready--and four for to GO!” Another silence. “By jingo, Bill Hammersley, you've beat me! Ha, ha! That WAS a jump! What say?” Silence once more. “You say you can do even better than that? Now, Bill, don't brag. Oh! you say you've often jumped farther? Oh! you say that was up in Scotland, where you had a spring-board? Oho! All right; let's see how far you can jump when you really try. There! Heels on the walk again. That's right; swing your arms. One--two--three! THERE you go!” Another silence. “ZING! Well, sir, I'll be e-tarnally snitched to flinders if you didn't do it THAT time, Bill Hammersley! I see I never really saw any jumping before in all my born days. It's eleven feet if it's an inch. What? You say you--” I heard no more, for Miss Apperthwaite, her face flushed and her eyes shining, beckoned me imperiously to follow her, and departed so hurriedly that it might be said she ran. “I don't know,” said I, keeping at her elbow, “whether it's more like Alice or the interlocutor's conversation at a minstrel show.” “Hush!” she warned me, though we were already at a safe distance, and did not speak again until we had reached the front walk. There she paused, and I noted that she was trembling--and, no doubt correctly, judged her emotion to be that of consternation. “There was no one THERE!” she exclaimed. “He was all by himself! It was just the same as what you saw last night!” “Evidently.” “Did it sound to you”--there was a little awed tremor in her voice that I found very appealing--“did it sound to you like a person who'd lost his MIND?” “I don't know,” I said. “I don't know at all what to make of it.” “He couldn't have been”--her eyes grew very wide--“intoxicated!” “No. I'm sure it wasn't that.” “Then _I_ don't know what to make of it, either. All that wild talk about 'Bill Hammersley' and 'Simpledoria' and spring-boards in Scotland and--” “And an eleven-foot jump,” I suggested. “Why, there's no more a 'Bill Hammersley,'” she cried, with a gesture of excited emphasis, “than there is a 'Simpledoria'!” “So it appears,” I agreed.